


Sisyphus

by lakeghost



Series: Damned and Deserted [2]
Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Castlevania (Cartoon) Season 3, Castlevania Season 3 Spoilers, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hair Braiding, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Multi, Regret, Scars, Trauma, Whump, difficult conversations are difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeghost/pseuds/lakeghost
Summary: Two steps forward, one step back.Set shortly afterTantalus, the trio continues to struggle with the aftermath.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Series: Damned and Deserted [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786096
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	Sisyphus

**Author's Note:**

> This wound up with far less gross body horror stuff and way more talking quietly about feelings than expected, so good news/bad news depending on your preference.  
> The amazing response to the first installment was such a motivation to write this - seriously, you guys are awesome. I hope this meets expectations!

The door to the fateful chamber could have been just another stretch of hallway, for the attention he paid it. It was rare he had need to cross its path, but when he did, he envisioned an unbroken swath of mortared stone passing over the door and sealing it away. The smell had improved slightly, but it continued to pervade the narrow passage beyond the door. He’d seen Sypha wrinkle her face in disgust when she was near, and Trevor winced when he saw flies congregating on the doorjamb. But it was easy to hold his breath for a while, putting time and footsteps between one clean lungful and the next. Neither of his companions had complained when he locked the door, and if they were willing to ignore the rank remains, he saw no reason to change his habits.

***

Adrian chose to sleep alone those first few nights.

Sypha didn’t blame him, but it didn’t make the empty space beside her any less cold. In the wagon, it was easier not to think about his absence. Surrounded by stone walls and fine bedding, it was impossible to neglect. The room was tomb-quiet, silent enough that her mind started to pull up memories of sounds to fill the space.

Sypha hadn’t been able to sleep. The people of Lindenfeld kept screaming in her ears. Every time she began to drift off, images of burning faces and tiny shoes flashed behind her eyelids and she startled awake. Trevor did his best to comfort her, rolling over and pulling her into his chest, like the weight of his body could keep everything bad at bay. But tonight, the draw of unconsciousness was too strong. She doubted anything short of dropping a block of ice on his head would wake him up.

There was the suggestion of grey light coming in from the window. Since they’d returned, Sypha felt like she was hanging off a ledge by her fingertips, that any moment any one of them would say something, or do something, and whatever little sphere of normalcy they’d built would burst into flame. She felt unmoored in a strange sea, and the whole situation made her skin itch. Sypha glanced again at the sickly sunrise peeking into the room and decided breakfast, at least, was not a bad idea.

  


“Oh! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not a concern.” The pale man sitting in the corner smiled. “You’re awake early.”

Sypha tried to smile, but her face wasn’t cooperating. “I couldn’t sleep.” She stepped out of the doorway into the small kitchen and approached the table.

Adrian leaned back to give her space. “I’m afraid I empathize with your plight.”

Sypha took a seat and folded her legs up off the floor. This was her chance to say something, to make her pathetic apology or ask what she could do to help. She fought to find the right words, the right tone, and the struggle must have shown on her face.

“You probably came down here for food. I didn’t mean to distract you. You’re free to help yourself to anything you’d like.” His tight smile made Sypha want to cry, or maybe scream. She nodded and stood back up.

“Would you like anything?” She began to rummage through a shelf of dry goods and tried to keep her eyes on her hands, but they wandered to the man at the table, despite herself.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He scratched absently at the new scars that ringed around his forearm and wrist. He’d been bringing back game most days since their return, neatly exsanguinated, and the effects were clear in his rapid healing. The mottled discoloration of his body had entirely faded, and the angry, raw flesh had softened to healthy skin, for the most part.

“Are you sure?” The odd, early-morning light brought out how thin he still was, emphasizing the shadows beneath his eyes and under his jaw. His nightshirt hung off his frame like moss on a dead tree. Sypha thought the scars should at least be fading by now, right? Hadn’t enough time passed?

Adrian let his eyes fall back to the surface of the table, tracing along the grain of the wood. “I’m fine.”

Sypha gritted her teeth and forcefully returned to her seat.

“I hate this. I can’t - I can’t just watch this and try to figure out what you’re thinking.”

Adrian wrinkled his eyebrows. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Sypha folded her arms. “I feel useless. I can see half of the pieces but not enough to make any sense out of it.”

Adrian was quiet, then sighed. “I’m thinking about moving the remains.” His eyes were suddenly much colder.

“Bury them?” She watched as Adrian exhaled through his nose, then carefully chose his words.

“I can’t. Just bury them. But …” He let his head fall into his hands. “There’s a reason I’ve kept the door sealed.” When there wasn’t a response, he looked up at Sypha’s imploring face. He looked back down, guiltily. “I want revenge.” A breath. “I know it’s vindictive and cruel, but I want to make an example of them. Gore their bodies on pikes by the door so everyone can see what becomes of hu - of traitors.” He pressed his lips together. He was still composed, his voice fluid and sharp, but Sypha could see his claws digging painfully into his scalp.

“If that’s what you want to do, I won’t try to stop you.” Sypha’s features were tight as she pushed back to sit straighter in her chair. “Go ahead. Let them be a warning. Defile them. Show the world what you're capable of. Your father would be so proud.” The sphere was already catching fire - might as well speed it along.

“Sypha. You have to understand…”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s inevitable. Thinking we could trust each other.” His voice was low. Something seemed to be unlocked in him, Sypha could see a new heat coming to his eyes.

“What about us?”

Adrian faltered. “Special case.”

“Are we? We - well, technically just me, Trevor was moral support - sought you out to further our own cause. No other reason. We needed your insight if we wanted any hope of defeating Dracula. For so long, we only knew Alucard - Adrian was a stranger. How is that different than these two?"

“It’s not the same thing.” The guilty look replaced the fire that had sparked a moment ago, but the haunted affect lingered.

“You’re right, it’s not.” Sypha uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “You’re a different person now than you were then, for better or worse. And Trevor and I played a role in that.

“For better or worse,” murmured Adrian.

Sypha nodded. The movement knocked free tears she hadn’t realized were collecting at her eyes. She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her robes and laughed humorlessly. “Sometimes I envy Trevor. What must it be like to have such a thick skin?”

Adrian flipped his mouth into a half-smile. “I assure you, a hide like that comes with its own price.”

Sypha reached across the table to take one of his hands in each of hers. “The world doesn’t need any help making monsters, Adrian; it does a fine job of that on its own.” She looked up to meet his eyes. The weariness in his features was familiar; Sypha had started seeing it etched into her own in the past month. “It never really feels like winning, does it?”

Adrian tilted his head in thought. “It’s a zero-sum game, but we’re still beholden to its rules. One can only hope to be on the right side.”

Sypha was silent, but this time with relief. She didn’t have anything to say in reply.

She was, however, still hungry. She gently passed both Adrian’s hands to one of her own and clapped her freed hand over the laced fingers.

“Now, I could really go for some breakfast. Care to join me?”

***

Trevor stared up at the dark where the ceiling would be and did his best to clear his mind. It was getting warmer outside, even during the night, but the castle remained cool and drafty - a double-edged sword come winter. Far away noises of nocturnal creatures were masked by the weight of his own breathing and the rustle of Sypha stirring in the sheets. She’d finally fallen back asleep, but Trevor was not so lucky.

Briefly, Trevor thought he heard muted footsteps, but he dismissed it as a conjuring of his own mind. Time passed, and the hunter’s mind kept him awake, listening. Eventually, he heard it again: a muted padding, slightly irregular. The steps paused outside the closed door, then resumed, quickly fading.

Trevor hadn’t noticed Adrian’s limp during the day; the dhampir still carried himself with the same infuriating aristocratic grace they’d come to expect, but without the visual distraction, the hitch in his gait was clear. The fact Trevor could hear him moving at all was a giveaway that he was still suffering his wounds.

Despite the ache settling under his ribs, or perhaps because of it, sleep was drawing near. Then the soft, shuffling gait came again, paused to listen for a moment, then another, and continued on its pacing loop. Trevor gave up on sleep and gingerly slid out of bed to seek peace of mind.

  


The hall forked at sharp angles to the left and right, leaving space for the towering mirror posted at its terminus. Trevor had kept his distance, merely retracing the path Adrian walked as he looped through his haunt. Adrian paused when he noticed the mirror, apparently a deviation from his route, and approached it. From halfway behind a heavy column, Trevor could see the man doubled in the glass, and behind him the yawning, endless mouth of the rest of the corridor.

“Do you intend to stalk me all night, Belmont?”

Trevor stepped out from the shadow into the slightly lighter umbra of the hall proper. “Only if you keep lurking outside my door.” He continued walking to meet the pale man at the end of the hall.

“Am I that loud?” Adrian hadn’t taken his eyes off the mirror. Trevor watched him track his reflection with quick gold eyes and shrugged. Adrian looked down and away. “I apologize if I kept you awake. You need rest.”

“Unlike you.”

Adrian flicked his eyes back up to the mirror and met Trevor’s stare with a guilty expression. His eyes fluttered and refocused, resulting in a small frown.

“What I need is a haircut.” He separated a small bundle to examine more closely. Now that Trevor was right beside him, the closest they’d been since the day they’d found him, he could see what the man was referring to. What had once been cornsilk in color and texture had faded to something much greyer. Trevor could see the unevenness at the ends of the length where it had become brittle and broken away.

His eyes returned to Adrian, framed in the gilded vines around the mirror’s edge and further by the dark of the hall behind him. He stood like a jagged white tooth in its maw. The expression on his face as he inspected his tattered hair caught Trevor by surprise. In the face of the severity of his wounds, and the trauma of the ordeal itself, before and after, this should be laughable. 

Trevor stepped to be behind Adrian and reached forward a hand, then hesitated. Adrian nodded and looked up, trapping any tears before they could fall. Trevor held a bundle of hair in his palm and assessed.

“Well,” he began, “I think you should talk to Sypha about that. She does mine.”

Adrian huffed something close to a laugh. “Perhaps I should just take my chances with my sword then.” His tone was light, but there was a waver to it.

Trevor smiled and elbowed him gently. “To her credit, I was trying to steer the wagon at the time, and the road was far from even.” Trevor glanced up over Adrian’s shoulder to see the ghost of a smile in the mirror. It didn’t make him look any less exhausted. “What I can do is get this mess combed and braided, just for now.” He didn’t fully wait for a response. He needed to be doing something with his hands or he was going to lose his mind.

“And why would you do that?”

Trevor dropped to the carpet and gestured for Adrian to do the same.

“Why are you on the floor?” Incredulity had beaten out exhaustion, for the moment.

“Probably because my poor human legs are tired, and sitting down we’re about the same height, so this’ll be easier.” What exactly “this” was remained undetermined.

Adrian acquiesced with a sigh and folded down to the carpet. Dutifully, Trevor took a wide section from the back and began running his fingers through the ends, slowly moving upwards as knots and tangles came loose. “Believe it or not, most people with long hair tend to tie it back when doing hard labor or battling hordes of the undead. You are, as always, the exception.”

He got a dry laugh in return.

Trevor continued his task, parting and combing sections in a silence Adrian seemed relieved to share. He reached for a section just behind Adrian’s right ear, and in the process brushed one of the raised scars that looped over his shoulder.

Adrian tensed as though shocked, but didn’t say anything.

Trevor froze and opened his mouth to say something, then quickly realized he didn’t know what to say. Or how.

“Keep going.” Adrian’s voice was soft, but deadpan. Trevor resumed, pulling free the first sections to begin the plait.

Silence settled over them again. The light from the hall chandelier was high up and far away, diffused and reflected a hundred times to softly illuminate the space before the mirror.

“Nothing they said was untrue.” Trevor’s hands didn’t falter. He was braced for this. He had turned this thought, this conversation, over and over in his head until the sharp edges wore away. He nodded, even though Adrian was staring down the empty hall. “I kept them here, manipulated them into spending time with me.” He exhaled, but waited to take the next breath. “I should have just ... let them, I think.” He continued to hold the air in his lungs.

Trevor stilled his hands, and gently rested his entangled fists along Adrian’s back. “You were in an impossible situation. You acted accordingly. There’s no shame in that.” His voice was remarkably steady, all this considered.

“But what they said. They were right.” Adrian’s voice had drawn to just above a whisper, like it was trying to escape without being noticed.

“Fine,” Trevor nodded, encouraging himself, “Okay then. Maybe what they said, the facts and pieces of it, was all accurate. Not a lie in sight.” He tightened his fists. “But that doesn’t mean it’s _true_. Things are more than the sum of their parts - I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”

Trevor took a deep breath. Adrian could probably hear his heart just about pounding out of his chest, but he appreciated that at least he wasn’t saying anything. He resumed his braiding.

“I’ve killed people, Adrian. Not just demons and ghouls, but human fucking beings. People with complex thoughts and feelings and families, and maybe even souls. I’m willing to bet good money I have a higher body count than you.”

“Trevor-” Adrian’s voice was pleading, but subdued.

Unphased, the Belmont trudged forward. “I can justify each and every life I've taken - it was to protect someone else, or save my own ass - but they’re just that: justifications. I still committed the act. And I’d like to think I’m a bit more complicated than a list of all the things I’ve done.”

Adrian was silent for several seconds; he seemed to be thinking. Trevor tied off the braid with a firm tug. He sat back a bit, moving his legs to set his feet on the floor, knees bent. In a single, fluid movement, Adrian turned to face him, bracing his legs in a similar manner. With delicate fingers, he felt along the ridges and twists of the braid.

He reached farther back along the plait, moving his elbow out and with it, the collar of his shirt. The linen pulled away from his collarbone, exposing more of the gnarled scar that graced his torso. Adrian noticed Trevor’s gaze and smiled, hinting at something dangerous. He let his hands fall from his hair and grasped Trevor’s wrist, firmly tugging him forward to place a hand on his chest.

The ridge of tissue was squarely beneath his palm. It might have been an illusion, but it felt a breath warmer than the skin around it. Of course he’d touched the scar before, but as a general rule, he and Sypha tried to work around it during their escapades, and he’d barely touched Adrian at all since they’d pulled him from that room. He ran his hand along the length, terrified he’d break this fragile moment by saying something stupid. He knew Adrian’s eyes were locked on him, gauging his reaction. As his hand dipped farther below the hem of the shirt, his fingertips brushed bare flesh and traced one of the new darkened traces, this one spanning his ribs. He cleared his throat softly as he extricated his hand. “Sorry.”

Wordlessly, Adrian leaned forward to rest an elbow on his knee and cup Trevor’s jaw in his palm. Adrian extended his hand, pushing into Trevor’s hairline and pressing the pads of his fingers to his scalp. He moved his thumb, then, brushing featherlight over the scar beneath Trevor’s eye. Again, he traced his thumb softly over his cheek, this time moving his fingers in tandem to trace through his hair. The effect was hypnotic; it took him a moment to realize Adrian was speaking.

“Do you know why bodies scar, Trevor?” He didn’t wait for a reply and breezed forward, continuing the movement of his thumb and taking Trevor’s opposite arm with his free hand.

“Confusion.” Adrian moved Trevor’s hand to the discolored lattice along his forearm and held it there. “All of those little cells, little particles of you, are throwing themselves at the wound to heal it, to seal it off as fast as they can. Like any workmen they need ropes and rigging to construct their building, and like workmen, they leave a bit of a mess, more the longer they’re at it.” He smirked.

“I’ve been blessed with regenerative abilities that, for the most part, negate the need for that chaos. Magic, even vampire magic, lives somewhere between the mind and the body - I’m sure Sypha would love to give you a lecture on it sometime.” Trevor rolled his eyes and let his hand feel the texture of Adrian’s skin where he had placed it.

“It follows, then, that my need for that structure, the human chaos of healing a body, draws on the relative chaos of the mind.” Trevor frowned. He really was paying attention, but all of this soft touching was truly very distracting.

“What I’m trying to say is that I must wear the burdens of my mind proud on my flesh, at least those capable of inflicting corporeal damage. Nature doesn’t have a say in whether scar lingers or new flesh emerges, merely the psyche.” He finally met Trevor’s eyes, and the coolly academic demeanor he had adopted dropped entirely for a moment as he searched for a response.

Trevor lifted his hand from Adrian’s arm and took the hand along his cheek into his own, folding them into his lap. “I figured it was something like that.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes.

“The only things that have left marks are you are the ones tied to painful, fucked-up emotions. Things that stay present in your mind.”

Adrian huffed slightly, resigned. “How astute.”

Trevor grinned. After an exaggerated yawn, he leaned back on his hands. “Just so you’re aware, my defenses are thoroughly down at the moment. If you’ve been playing a long con waiting for your moment to pounce, this is it.” Trevor wasn’t even embarrassed when his heartbeat fluttered at the sight of Adrian’s cat-like smile in response to his own cocky demeanor.

“All of your defenses?” Adrian quirked his lips to expose bone-white fangs.

“You don't believe me?” Part of Trevor wished Sypha was here to join in on the fun, but a greedy part of him was excited to have Adrian to himself, just for a little while.

When Adrian lunged forward, knocking Trevor onto his back and pinning him in place, the hunter didn’t stop grinning like an idiot until the expression was nipped and kissed into oblivion.

***

The sound of the river was muted by dense, green leaves. Adrian was thankful for the shade. He’d begun digging with the heat of the afternoon sun bearing down on him, and it was only now beginning to set.

Moving the large river rock had been more of an ordeal than anticipated - even vampiric strength was no match for water-slick moss. He was satisfied with the outcome though. It seemed like an appropriate memorial. The graves were marked, here in this neutral space, but given time, the forest would reclaim the disturbance and erase his handiwork. More than bodies had been lain to rest.

He let himself feel the air passing over the deadened texture of his scars alongside the new ache in his palms from gripping the shovel. After a few pensive moments, he assessed the pinkish hue of the sky and departed. With intent, he began treading the winding path out of the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> This just in: author waxes poetic about tissue growth on a collagen scaffolding matrix. Up next: a critical analysis of hemodynamics in non-pulsatile systems
> 
> also lowkey headcanon that Adrian used to wear his hair tied back a lot of the time, but after Lisa died he realized how much he looked like her, so he wears it loose now to avoid the reminder


End file.
